


Code

by Jo (jmathieson)



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Morse Code, Not Beta Read, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prompt Fill, Sexting, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 07:20:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1460695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmathieson/pseuds/Jo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint fidgets in a meeting. Phil finds a way to distract him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Code

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a drabble, but it got away from me. Loosely based on the 'sexting' prompt from a list that was going around Tumblr recently. With sincere apologies to Samuel Morse.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at: [Queen of Wands](http://jmathieson-fic.tumblr.com/)

When he was working, he could wait for hours. It was part of the job of being a sniper, and Clint Barton had come to terms with it early in his career — the fact that he'd have to spend lots and lots of hours sitting or standing or lying perfectly still, waiting for the mark to show up, waiting to take a shot.

And on the job, his patience was legendary. His ability to wait, perfectly still, in the most difficult and uncomfortable positions, for hours if necessary (days more than once) had earned him a token of respect from many of the SHIELD agents he had worked with.

But, and it was a pretty big 'but,' his ability to wait patiently, perfectly quiet and still while he was on the job was matched by his complete and utter inability to sit still during meetings. He fidgeted. He played with his pen, or his phone, or a paperclip, or the zippers on his uniform. The less input he had into what was going on, the more difficult it was for him to sit still. The longer the meeting went, the worse he got. And if a meeting was about protocol or regulations or some other bit of SHIELD bureaucracy rather than an operational briefing, well, Phil tried to keep Clint out of those meetings, if he could.

It was one of the reasons Phil had taken to running their mission briefings in his office, rather than a conference room, unless there were so many people involved that they didn't all fit. He'd realized that Clint had an almost Pavlovian response to being in a room with no windows and a big fake-mahogany table with matching chairs and the ubiquitous 'art' on the walls (who the hell chose that stuff, anyway?) and would start to fidget immediately, even if they were simply using the space to lay out a map on the table. Clint didn't fidget at all if he could lounge on the sofa in Phil's office, and play with one of Phil's stress balls; tossing it up and catching it on the top of his head or the end of his elbow before flipping back into the air...

The meeting they were currently in had been going on for almost three hours, and not only was Clint practically vibrating, but by now everyone else in the room was looking daggers at him. Except Fury, who was eying Phil with an expression that very clearly said 'Can't you do something about him?'

Phil wished he could excuse Clint from the meeting, but they needed him there. It was a briefing for an op that was a follow-up to a job Clint had done a few months earlier, and his input—in particular his ability to remember and describe people and places, the layout of buildings and the movement patterns of guards—was crucial.

They were sitting across the conference table from each other, and Phil caught Clint's eye. Clint immediately looked down and sat still, folding his hands (which a second before had been drumming quietly on the table) in his lap. Phil waited until Clint looked back up, and gave him a small smile when he did. Then Phil glanced pointedly down at where his own thumb was resting on top of a yellow legal pad. Clint followed his gaze immediately.

Phil started to tap his thumb on the pad in an odd rhythm, lifting it high up off the pad in between taps: tap-lift-tap-lift pause tap-lift-tap-tap pause tap-tap pause lift-tap pause lift. Clint furrowed his forehead in concentration, trying to figure out the code. Phil repeated the sequence again. Halfway through, Clint's face cleared, and he shot Phil a grin. When Phil finished tapping, Clint put one of his own hands back on the table and started a series of his own silent taps. Phil smiled a very small smile as he 'read' the Morse code Clint was tapping out with his thumb, spelling out Phil's name, as Phil had just spelled Clint's.

Phil started to tap again, keeping his eyes on the presentation, not wanting to look at Clint's face until the last second while he spelled out:

"W-A-N-T  T-O F-U-C-K  Y-O-U"

When he did glance over, he saw Clint shake his head a little, and then tap out the code for "Please repeat." Phil made sure that Clint saw his raised eyebrow, then he turned his attention back to the briefing and tapped out the exact same message.

This time Clint's eyes went wide, and he simply stared at Phil's hand, now resting relaxed on the pad.

"W-A-N-T  T-O S-U-C-K  Y-O-U" Clint tapped back, paused for a couple of seconds and then continued, "D-E-E-P  T-H-R-O-A-T"

Phil consciously fought his blush response. He'd started this after all, and the briefing was going much more smoothly now that Clint's nervous energy wasn't putting everyone on edge. 

"G-E-T-T-I-N-G  H-A-R-D" Phil tapped out.

"W-O-U-L-D  D-O  Y-O-U  H-E-R-E  U-N-D-E-R T-A-B-L-E" Clint replied.

"WANT TO SEE YOU. LOVE YOUR FACE" Phil paused his tapping when a question was directed at Clint, and Clint turned to Fury to answer it. Once the meeting had moved on to the next topic, Phil tapped "WHEN I FUCK YOUR MOUTH." He was gratified to see a slight blush at the tips of Clint's ears and the tell-tale way Clint shifted in his seat, trying to adjust himself without being obvious about it.

"THINKING ABOUT YOU IN MY MOUTH GONNA SHOOT IN MY PANTS" Clint tapped out.

"DONT. AFTER MEETING." Phil tapped quickly. He'd started this as a way to distract Clint, but he'd gotten hard and horny during their coded exchange, and now he was perfectly ready to make an exception to his 'No fooling around at work' rule. It was more of a guideline, really. They'd fucked once in Phil's office, and once in the supply closet nearest to the shooting range, and there had been that time... Phil looked back down at the table where Clint's thumb was tapping again.

"YOUR OFFICE OR MY QUARTERS?" Phil wasn't sure he'd make it out of the conference room, considering the state he was it, and he was saved from having to answer Clint's question by Fury asking if there was anything else they needed to cover before they wrapped up the meeting. Phil glanced around the table, wondering if anyone was going to keep them here longer, but everyone seemed to have had enough and there were headshakes all around. 

Phil kept his seat as everyone else filed out, and Clint, sitting across from him, did the same. Fury was the last to leave, and as he passed, he dropped a hand briefly on Phil's shoulder. Phil couldn't help but stiffen in anticipation of Fury asking to see him about something.

"Next time, Cheese, sit next to each other so that you can pass notes, instead. Please." The pained sound in Fury's voice made Phil's ears turn bright red, but, even more embarrassing, his cock twitched at the thought that Fury had been privy to their entire exchange. 'I'm much too old to be discovering a exhibitionist kink,' he thought frantically as Fury swept out of the room and closed the door firmly behind himself. 

Phil met Clint's eyes, and they both started to laugh. 

"You better not have been leading me on, Phil," Clint said once he could draw breath again, " 'cause I'm still all hot and bothered over here."

"Good. Because I am too."

Clint licked his lips, and Phil started to wonder if they'd make it as far as Clint's quarters. Maybe his office wasn't such a bad idea after all... Clint glanced pointedly at the door that Fury had shut, and then up at the security camera in the corner of the room.

"No." Phil said firmly. Very firmly. He was not having sex with Clint in the conference room. Tempting as it was. "My office," he said, standing up. "Come on."

"Yeah," Clint said, not moving and eying Phil's crotch, where his suit pants were showing a distinct interruption to the usual clean lines. Clint glanced at the camera again, and took his hand off the table where it was still resting, and put it very deliberately in his lap. Phil's eyes couldn't help but follow, and a moment later Clint was pushing his chair back from the table so that Phil could see him pressing his palm against the bulge in his jeans. 

"Don't think I'll make it to your office, Phil," he said, and started to unbutton.

'Fuck it,' thought Phil, with a last glance at the camera, 'I'll get the tapes erased later,' and stepped around the table, pausing to lock the conference room door on his way. 

Having decided to throw caution to the wind, he began to wonder about logistics. He stood in front of Clint's chair and leaned back against the edge of the conference table. 

"So, I seem to recall you offering me a blowjob."

Clint's eyes went wide, obviously surprised that Phil was on board.

"Yes sir!" Clint said with a cocky grin and a mock salute, and slipped gracefully out of his chair and onto his knees in front of Phil.

'Shit,' Phil muttered at the sight of Clint kneeling in front of him. Clint shot him another grin and then rubbed his face over the bulge in Phil's pants. Phil tried to bite back a moan. He buried his hands in Clint's hair and tugged, just a little. Clint backed off and looked up.

"If you want this, no teasing," Phil said, his voice low and breathy. Clint swallowed, and put his hands on Phil's belt buckle, waiting for the small nod Phil gave him before undoing it.

Then Clint's hands were on him and his pants were being pushed down to his thighs and he was enveloped in the hot wetness of Clint's mouth. He wasn't going to last. He couldn't... He griped Clint's hair again and started to thrust. He didn't get dominant like this often, but he knew Clint liked it when he did, so he let himself go, holding Clint's head in place and thrusting deep into his willing mouth. Clint's arms wrapped around his thighs and one had cupped his balls from behind while the fingers of the other delved between Phil's ass cheeks to tease his hole with the tip of one finger. 

"Fuck. Yes. Clint." The short syllables were dragged out of his mouth between harsh pants and then Phil was gone, thrusting in deep and shooting down Clint's throat. Clint's hands stilled and his throat worked convulsively to swallow as Phil spasmed one last time and then sighed, and started to pull out. Clint made a whining noise and tightened his arms, not letting Phil move away. Clint licked and sucked, tracing the contours of Phil's softening cock with his tongue and cleaning him thoroughly before loosening his arms and drawing back his head. Clint drew Phil's underwear and pants back up and tucked his shirt in carefully before zipping his fly and fastening his belt. 

"There, all tidy," said Clint, with his usual cocky grin. 

"Come here," Phil said, finally taking his hands out of Clint's hair and pulling at his arms instead. Clint surged to his feet and Phil claimed his mouth in a kiss, sliding one hand into Clint's unbuttoned jeans to close around his hard dick. 

"God. Yeah," Clint hooked his chin over Phil's shoulder and slid one arm up under Phil's suit jacket, gripping tightly as Phil stroked him with a firm hand.

"Love seeing you on your knees for me," Phil whispered into his ear. "Love that you want to do that for me."

"Love you," Clint gasped. "Want to give you everything."

"Come for me," Phil growled, and nipped the side of Clint's neck with his teeth, not hard, just enough to pinch, but it was enough to make Clint gasp and shudder as he spurted into Phil's fist. Clint sagged, and Phil wrapped his free arm tightly around him, holding him close and now kissing the small mark on his neck softly.

"God. That was... that was amazing Phil."

"Good, I wasn't too rough?" Phil asked quietly, still gently nuzzling the side of Clint's neck.

"No, you were fantastic. I love it when you're forceful, Phil. So," Clint said, dragging in a breath. "Is this going to be, like a new incentive program to get me to sit still in meetings? Because I totally think that could work."

Phil could feel Clint's grin, and he pulled back, planting one last kiss on the smirking lips before carefully extracting his sticky hand from Clint's jeans and fishing his handkerchief out of his pocket to clean up.

"Sex in the conference room after briefings is absolutely not going to become a regular thing, Clint," Phil said firmly. "But we might be able to work out some kind of suitable ah... reward system."

"Awesome!"

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr at: [Queen of Wands](http://jmathieson-fic.tumblr.com/)


End file.
